Sealed Fate
by Oneday-Always
Summary: Neither of them ever meant to fall in love. But then again, maybe that's exactly what they were always meant to do.
1. Chapter 1

The house was empty.

She knew it instantly, the stillness pressing in upon her the moment she stepped through the door, a deafening quiet that sent a fresh chill through her shivering, rainsoaked body.

Pausing in the dim entryway, Julia bit her lip, uncertain. All she'd wanted was to get out of the rain— to get home, change, and wrap herself in a thick, soft blanket before curling up on the couch with the heater blazing and a hot coffee in her hands.

Now that she was here, though, she realized that she'd never imagined doing so alone.

"Barbie?" she called, the word echoing softly in the silence, giving her an answer she already knew.

He wasn't here.

And just like that, Julia made her decision. Tightening her grip on her keys, she drew in a breath, then turned and stepped back out into the storm.

###

She found him on Lake Street, his already-familiar build instantly recognizable to her even through the pouring rain. The immediate gladness and relief that coursed through her at the sight of him caught her off-guard, her hand pressing reflexively on the horn to catch his attention. As he began to turn, a sudden sense of impatience seized her, her body reacting before conscious thought could intercede.

Shifting swiftly into park, she yanked the handbrake and then scrambled from the car, scarcely noticing nor caring as the rain once again engulfed her, her attention focused on nothing but the figure ahead of her as she called his name.

Illuminated as he was in the headlights, she saw the immediate shift in his posture at her voice, the tense, ready stance instantly relaxing, his response causing an unexpected surge of warmth somewhere deep in her chest.

"I've been looking for you," she blurted honestly, suddenly realizing she wanted him to know it, even though she didn't quite understanding why. Moving swiftly across the puddle-strewn asphalt, she reached him in just a few quick steps, her eyes focused and assessing as she gave him a rapid once-over through the dim light.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," he responded after a moment, a distracted, pensive quality to his tone that concerned her. However, the next moment his blue eyes lifted to fix on hers, swiftly searching her gaze as he returned the question. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she began quietly, then paused, taking a breath and pushing her hair back from her face as she went on, "It's— it's been a hell of a crazy day."

"I guess you could say everyone went a little crazy today," he agreed in a low voice, making her wonder just what had happened to him during the riot to cause the heaviness behind his words, a tiny flicker of her earlier concern returning as she looked up into his somber face.

For a fraction of a second she hesitated, unsure, before letting out a slow breath, allowing her reservations to go with it. Stepping in close, she rested her head slowly against his shoulder, her fingers curling around his elbow in a feather-light touch. To her relief, his free arm came around her without hesitation, his palm warm and steady at the back of her head, making her melt just a little more into his secure embrace.

"We're going to be okay," she murmured after a moment, the tiniest hint of wonder in her tone as she realized that here— with her cheek against his shoulder and his strong arms around her— she finally began to believe it.

His only answer was to hold her just a little tighter, his chest rising and falling against hers in a steady, comforting rhythm. She didn't fully understand why, but being held by Barbie just felt… well, _right, _somehow.

Maybe it was just because she couldn't even remember what it was like to be held like this; after all, she and Peter had barely touched in months, somehow having fallen into a lifestyle that was more like cohabiting friends than husband and wife. Not that it was Peter's fault, or hers, really— it had been happening slowly for so long that it was hardly a surprise that neither of them had even realized how much they had changed. Thinking of all the happy photos of them that were scattered around the house, it was easy to see now that they were all from the earliest years of their relationship, the happy, carefree images simply perpetuating a false truth that she'd willingly allowed herself to believe.

One that, just this morning, she had finally been forced to face.

She and Peter had ended years ago; they just hadn't noticed. She loved him still, of course, and likely always would in a way— but the truth was that she hadn't been _in_ love with him for far longer than she'd ever realized.

It had taken her most of the day to recognize the strange feeling that had accompanied the shock and hurt of his letter. It was only once she'd dropped Dodee back at the station and started heading home to meet Barbie that she'd realized what it was, a sudden lightness, an absence of the guilt that had previously lingered like a shadow in the back of her mind whenever Barbie had entered her thoughts.

She'd been _relieved_.

Her instant, yet carefully-ignored and unacknowledged attraction to Barbie had always seemed like a betrayal of Peter— regardless of how distant their marriage had become— and she had fought to keep it suppressed since the moment she had met him, standing there just yards from the dome that had imprisoned them all.

Now, though— in one sense at least— she was free.

It was that feeling that gave her the courage to draw back slightly in Barbie's arms, her eyes closing briefly as she slowly lifted her head, the gentle brush of his cheekbone against her temple sending tiny shivers across her skin. Her hand drifted down from his elbow to slip her fingers through his, her head turning just slightly to find his lips with hers.

He responded with a gentleness she had never expected, his hand closing around hers as he returned the kiss, his lips soft and warm against hers. She felt his warm hand draw away from her hair and immediately missed the contact— only to have it return a moment later, his fingers threading through her damp locks to cup the back of her neck, holding her close.

Leading up to this moment, she could honestly admit that she'd imagined more than once what it would be like to kiss him; most often, her mind had leaned towards something hot and fast and hungry, with roaming hands and fierce, breathless need.

But this— all tenderness and quiet, earnest wanting, with gentle hands and sweet little caresses— this was beyond anything she ever imagined between them, beyond any other kiss she could remember.

The sensation overwhelmed her, causing her to pull back just slightly, resting her forehead against his as she drew in a slow breath. Barbie breathed with her, his fingers sliding free of her hair to stroke his thumb back and forth across her cheek, a small trail of warmth wiping out the wet tracks left by the steadily falling rain.

After another careful breath, she lifted her head, her eyes opening to lock with his. There was an emotion and intensity to his gaze that made her catch her breath, her skin suddenly burning hot despite the cool rain. Swallowing slightly, she gave his hand a small squeeze, her head tilting just a fraction to the side.

It shouldn't have surprised her that he understood her wordless question immediately, his fingers tightening around hers as the two of them turned together toward the car, only releasing their grip once they reached the hood and were forced to part.

She'd left the car running, the roar of the storm muted to a dull rumble outside their small bubble of warmth. Neither bothered with seatbelts as she shifted into gear, easing forward slowly through the heavy downpour.

"Where have you been staying?" she asked softly, her eyes focused ahead, her hands slick against the wheel.

"My car," he answered simply, and immediately she glanced across at him, dismay and regret twisting in her gut. When she'd kicked him out the day before, she'd been furious— to be honest, more so with Peter than Barbie himself— but she'd done it assuming that he would find some other well-meaning resident to offer him a bed and something to eat, not that he would be left to sleep out in the cold, cramped up in an unheated car with no food or bedding.

Looking away quickly, Julia swallowed hard, her throat suddenly just a little tight. He'd noticed, however— his keen eyes yet again seeing more than she'd wanted him to— and reached out to her, his fingers light on her arm.

"Hey, it's okay. I've done it plenty of times before."

She nodded, but said nothing, her hand releasing the wheel to clasp his. She could feel his eyes still upon her as he gently squeezed her hand, his thumb slowly trailing back and forth across her knuckles as she drove.

Only once they reached his car did she gently pull away from his grip, shifting the car into park and pulling the trunk latch. Stepping back out into the rain, she walked around to stand by the trunk, waiting silently. For a moment he hesitated, as if intending to ask if she was really sure, but then seemed to think better of it, correctly realizing that she'd already made her decision. Quickly ducking into his car, he threw his things back into his pack, then locked the car once more before joining her beside the trunk.

Once he'd hefted the pack inside, she put her hand over his where it rested on the lid of the trunk, and together they pushed it closed, their eyes meeting through the falling rain. Then, giving him a small, one-sided smile, she headed back around her side of the car, slipping smoothly into the driver's seat.

As soon as the door closed behind him, she slowly backed up and turned around, maneuvering carefully in the wet. Once they were safely back onto the road and headed for home, Barbie reached across to settle his palm lightly at the back of her neck, massaging gently with his thumb. Biting her lip at the sensation, Julia fought the urge to close her eyes, her hands tightening around the wheel as she forced herself to focus on the road.

It felt like an eternity later when they finally pulled into the driveway, Barbie's hand slowly drawing from her neck as she killed the engine, her skin suddenly cold without the gentle contact. Pulling the trunk latch, she climbed out into the rain, waiting silently while he grabbed his pack and rounded the car to join her, the two of them walking together to the front door.

Unlocking it, she stepped through, then kicked off her soaked shoes as she waited for him to follow. Carefully re-locking the door, she turned to find him placing his recently-removed boots neatly beside her small heels, a small puddle forming where he stood. Smiling slightly, she moved silently to the stairs, knowing he would be right behind her. Bypassing her own bedroom, she headed instead into the room she already thought of as his, skirting the bed to turn on the small lamp on the nightstand.

Then, turning, she watched him place his pack carefully on the floor, his eyes never leaving hers. Rounding the end of the bed, she paused before him for just the briefest moment, trailing her fingers lightly against his arm before she continued past him, leaving him alone in the room without looking back.

While he'd made no move to stop her, she thought she'd heard just the smallest sigh follow her out of the room, causing a tiny smile to curve her lips. When she stepped back through the doorway just moments later with two thick towels in her hands, she found him just where she had left him; though now his eyes were downcast, his shoulders bowed, his whole body seeming defeated, drained.

He looked up swiftly as she entered, and for the briefest moment she saw his eyes flash, a complex fusion of quickly suppressed emotions. Swallowing slightly, she silently crossed the room to where he stood, her eyes still fixed on his as she held up a towel in one outstretched hand.

His fingers brushed gently across the back of her hand as he accepted the towel from her, a growing warmth in his eyes that caused a tiny flutter somewhere deep in her chest. Drawing in a slow, steadying breath, she stepped just a little closer, pausing only for a split second before lifting her own towel to brush softly against his cheek and jaw, then continued down his neck to the collar of his shirt, her movements slow, tentative.

She saw the movement of his Adam's apple as he swallowed, a momentary trace of hesitancy in his movements as he raised his own towel, touching the cloth gently against her forehead before replacing it a moment later with just the lightest press of his lips. Her eyelids fluttered, her body going still as he brushed the towel carefully against her cheeks, her chin, her nose, his lips following in its wake to press gentle kisses to the newly-dried skin.

Forcing her eyes to open, she slowly drew her towel along the damp curve of his neck and up into his hair, her nails pressing into his scalp through the cloth as his kisses headed steadily downward, his mouth leaving a trail of warmth along the arch of her throat. After several silent moments, his lips lifted away from her skin, the half-formed protest that rose in her throat silenced by the gentle pressure of his hand at her shoulder. Understanding his intentions, she gave in, lowering her arms from his neck to turn around slowly in his grip, his chest now mere inches from her back.

Carefully, gently, he placed the towel over her hair, his fingers pressing through the material to massage her scalp in slow, steady movements, causing a tiny, involuntary moan to escape her lips. After several long moments, he gently smoothed the towel down over her damp locks, gathering them to the side as he pressed his mouth to the exposed skin of her neck, his lips finding the sensitive point just below the hollow of her ear. Instinctively she tilted her head, giving him better access, then slowly lifted trembling hands to tug at her jacket, shrugging off the damp garment in one careful motion. As it dropped to the floor beside their feet, she turned slowly to face him, her eyes meeting his for a fleeting second before her arms were suddenly around his neck, her lips eagerly covering his. Instantly, his arms came around her, one tight around her waist, the other still gripping the towel at the back of her neck. Kissing him deeply, she let her own towel drape over one arm, her hands sliding down his chest to fumble with the slick plastic of his buttons.

Within moments, she had them all free— she would have been even faster, if not for the hot swipe of his tongue in her mouth, the passionate and possessive way he claimed her lips— and was pushing the sodden shirt back off his shoulders, the suddenly-exposed skin of his chest warm against her fingertips.

Drawing back— somewhat reluctantly— from his kiss, she lowered her eyes to his broad, tanned chest, drinking in the sight of him. Then, feeling his unsteady breathing feathering against her hair, she leaned down just slightly, pressing a brief kiss to the small hollow at the base of his throat, feeling his grip tighten against her as she did so. Lifting her lips from his skin, she grasped her almost-forgotten towel in unsteady fingers, brushing it slowly across the firm expanse of his pecs before deliberately sliding it downward, skimming over his lean abdomen, feeling the muscles contract under her touch. As she reached the top of his jeans, she deftly popped open the button, slipping her fingers under the waistband and around to his back, dragging her nails lightly against his skin.

A low rumble vibrated in his chest, his words never making it to his lips as they once again covered hers, a paradox of tenderness and fire that left her breathless. Shifting one arm between them, he swiftly unhooked the single button that fastened the front of her shirt, then sliding his hand underneath, his palm hot even through her camisole. Reaching back to help him, she yanked at the shirt, impatient for the feel of his hands on her bare skin. Within moments her shirt joined his on the floor, the camisole promptly following suit, leaving the dark lace of her bra exposed.

This time it was he who broke off the kiss, her small moan of protest going unheard as his eyes immediately fell to her chest, his grip tight and breathing ragged as he stared. Then, lowering his head, he traced his lips from the angle of her jaw to her collarbone, his mouth hot and wet against her shoulder. When she tightened her hold around his neck, clinging to him, he simply reached down and lifted her against him, taking her full weight easily. Wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, Julia buried her fingers in his still-damp hair, her lips pressing against his forehead as he turned around, moving them over to the bed.

Despite the tension in his hard body, the urgency of his mouth on her skin, he handled her carefully, lowering her gently onto the duvet like she was something fragile and precious, a treasure that he couldn't believe he held. Sliding one jean-clad thigh between hers, he held his body steady above her, her back arching instinctively to meet him as his lips ventured lower, mapping her skin with a tenderness and care that left her trembling.

Biting her lip, she held back a moan as one callused palm slid across her stomach and up across her ribs, slipping underneath her back to unclasp her bra with long, deft fingers. Within moments the lacy fabric was gone, his mouth already intent on warming the newly-exposed skin. This time her moan would not be suppressed, her fingers tightening their grip on his hair, as she arched against him, her chest heaving with ragged breaths.

As if sensing her need, Barbie lifted his head, his lips capturing hers in a heated kiss that promised he was just getting started. Digging her nails into his muscled shoulder, she kissed him back hungrily, her other hand coming between them to reach for the zipper of his jeans.

At her touch, he tensed, his lips tearing briefly from hers, his breathing shallow.

"Julia," he panted, a question he didn't seem to know how to phrase.

"Yes," she whispered harshly, her lips finding his earlobe, his jaw, his throat. "Yes, I'm sure."

For a moment he was still, his eyes clenched shut, his body taut with carefully restrained need. Then, his eyes opened, blue and intense as they met and held hers. Lifting one hand, he cupped her face, and somehow they both seemed to settle slightly; his lips met hers gently, carefully, their previous frenzied pace slowly subsiding into something sweeter, more real.

When he pulled away a moment later, she let him go, her eyes watching his every movement as he slowly straightened, his broad, muscled frame looming over her, his hands lingering for a moment at her hips before she gave him the slightest of nods. His eyes never leaving hers, he carefully unbuttoned her jeans, his hands gentle as he slowly slipped the damp fabric down over her thighs and calves, leaving her in only a small pair of dark panties.

For a moment she felt exposed, vulnerable, a frisson of fear spreading through her veins— until she saw the understanding and tiny hint of apprehension lingering behind his own eyes, felt the tenderness with which he pressed a small kiss to the bare skin of her ankle. Feeling a tiny smile form on her lips, she lifted herself on her elbows, then tilted her head, glancing pointedly to his jeans before flicking her gaze back up to meet his.

His breath escaped in a small huff, a sweet almost-laugh that made her grin. Shooting her a wry look, he obediently unzipped his jeans and carefully stepped out of them, revealing a very tight pair of dark-gray briefs. Shifting slightly, she held out a hand to him, and he came without hesitation, his lips finding hers instantly as his body settled once more above her. For a fleeting moment, she smiled against his lips, then parted them, steadily deepening the kiss as his hand drifted down her side to her waist, fingers curling in the waistband of her panties.

It was then, with his lips covering hers and her body pressed tightly against his, that she felt it; it was then that she finally just knew.

Whatever this was— whatever was between them— it wasn't just a product of circumstances, or convenience, or simple attraction.

It was real.

And as the storm outside continued to rage, the storm that had roiled within her finally fell silent.

* * *

_Liked it? Then seriously guys, please just take 30 seconds and review it. Writing takes time— time I really do not have to spare at the moment— and to be honest, it would be FAR quicker and easier for me to just jot down this story in dotpoints in a notebook for my own private enjoyment rather than type it up fully and share it here, so if you want more, you know what to do. _

_Further chapters based around the canon Barbie/Julia plotline are already planned out, and— based on response— may be posted sometime within the near future._

_In any case, thanks for reading._


	2. Chapter 2

_Guys. Episode 10. I think I'm still in shock._

_Seriously, this pairing somehow manages to keep surprising me and I honestly do not know if I am equipped to handle these kind of emotions. _

_But in any case, I want to thank everyone that reviewed the initial chapter— I've loved reading your thoughts, and it's honestly due to you guys that I managed to get through this chapter at all. _

_So, here goes._

* * *

He shouldn't be here.

This town, this house, this bed— any of it.

Watching her sleep peacefully beside him, Barbie let out a small sigh, then closed his eyes. Of all the places in the world he had any right to be, this was about the last.

Those fucking cows. Five more seconds and he would have been free, past the dome line, putting as many miles between him and this goddamn town as he could, never looking back. Five more seconds and he never would have been stuck here, trapped in a giant supernatural fishbowl with limited supplies and a town full of panicked and desperate civilians.

Five more seconds and he never would have met _her._

Okay, so maybe the last part he didn't regret quite so much as he should.

He'd told himself that he'd just stuck around to look out for her. He knew from his own observations and from what she had told him that Peter had been her only direct relation in town; at a time like this, when normal society went to hell and everyone was only looking out for their own, she needed someone in her corner. He'd owed it to her, and— though he hated to admit it— to Peter as well, to be there for her, to protect her now that there was no one else who would.

And honestly, for a while at least, he really had believed that that was all there was to it.

That was, until two days ago when he'd gotten back to the medical center with the antibiotics— antibiotics she'd needed to save her life— and she hadn't been there.

He hadn't been prepared for the flood of adrenaline and fear that had overtaken him, the drive to the cabin flashing by rapidly as he sped almost recklessly though the town and out onto the backroads, dread wrapping like a steel band around his chest, squeezing tighter with every mile, making it hard to breathe.

It was a feeling he'd known pretty well, one he'd felt before; this was just the first time he'd ever felt it without a gun pressed to his head.

It was around then that he'd started to realize it, whether he'd wanted to or not.

Protecting her— being there for her, looking out for her— was not just about a sense of obligation.

At the time, though, he'd pushed the thought away, focusing only on getting her out of the cabin and back to the medical center as fast as was physically possible, breaking just about every road law— not that those really mattered anymore— as he did so.

But hell, when he'd found her on the floor of the cabin... he didn't particularly want to revisit that memory. Even once he'd gotten her back to the clinic and the doctors had taken over, he'd been half-convinced they were too late.

He'd paced in her room for three hours, sat in the chair by her bed for another four— then, within five minutes of waking, she'd kicked him out.

Watching her sleep before him now, safe and healthy and whole in her own bed, he wondered how she was going to react when she woke to find him here, a fairly large and unavoidable reminder that last night had definitely happened.

Honestly, he still didn't know what this was— whether he was playing stand-in for Peter now, or if he was just the convenient rebound guy, or—

Or whether maybe she saw this as something else, something... more.

Because fuck, he was pretty sure he did.

Closing his eyes briefly, he pressed a knuckle to his temple, drawing in a slow, silent breath. Whatever happened, he'd just follow her lead; if she just wanted to forget last night and pretend it never happened, he could do that. Not the option he'd prefer, but he could handle it. In some ways, it would probably be the smart thing to do, preventing this whole thing from getting more complicated than it already was.

Usually, he tended to avoid complicated in the first place, careful not to get himself involved, but somehow Julia— the very definition of complicated— seemed to have a way of making herself the exception.

Opening his eyes, he let them drift over her face once more, feeling the tiniest hint of a smile tug at the edge of his mouth— one that soon faded as his gaze fell once again to her hand, her ring glinting dully at him in the dim light of the morning, a grim, silent reminder.

Yeah, 'complicated' really didn't quite cover it.

He was still looking at the ring— and thinking yet again about how much he should _not_ be here— when he saw her stir, a tiny frown creasing her forehead as she woke, her eyes slowly opening to find his. He didn't even realize he was holding his breath as they simply stared at each other for a moment, her gaze sharpening as she woke fully, her blue eyes unreadable.

Acting on impulse, he reached over, gently tucking away a loose strand that had fallen over her cheek, feeling a tiny flare of warmth in his chest as she smiled at him, a sweet, sleepy grin.

The smile faded quickly, though, the warmth he'd felt following in its wake.

Seeing the discomfort begin to build behind her eyes, and the silent, self-conscious movement as she drew back the hand that had rested between them, Barbie felt his jaw tighten, his whole body suddenly tense.

He'd known this was coming; he'd been prepared for it, ready. Hell, hadn't he even thought he'd wanted this?

As she shifted, however, turning wordlessly away from him, the sudden hollow feeling in his gut made him think that maybe he'd been wrong about that.

Shoving back that thought— and the unfamiliar ache that went with it— Barbie forced himself to move, sitting up carefully so as not to disturb her, his mind already planning his unobtrusive exit.

The sudden touch of her hand on his arm halted him, her soft but insistent "No" almost not registering in his brain.

Carefully controlling the unexpected emotions that had surged within him at her touch, Barbie looked down at her, seeing the shy honesty in her eyes as she spoke again.

"I'd like you to stay."

Shit. He shouldn't. He really shouldn't.

But he would.

Shit.

His eyes still locked with hers, he slowly settled back against the mattress, trying to read her gaze, trying to figure out what his next move should be.

Then, as he usually did, he simply followed his gut.

Brushing a thumb lightly over her cheek, he leaned in, and felt her respond instantly, her lips already parting for his—

The sharp, insistent knock at the front door broke through the quiet of the bedroom, and for a moment Barbie closed his eyes, cursing silently. He felt Julia shift, and cursed again, grudgingly preparing to let her go— only to realize she had moved closer, her body pressing against his, her eyes almost playful as they looked down into his.

"They will go away," she whispered, her smiling lips finding his.

Jesus. She never stopped surprising him.

Sliding a hand up the smooth skin of her back, Barbie put just a little more into the kiss, feeling her arch against him as he pressed his lips to her chin, her jaw, her neck—

The knocking came again, louder this time, and he reflexively clenched his jaw, swiftly burying his frustration. He felt Julia's warm breath feather against his skin as she sighed, the tiny sound seeming to express the same irritation and resignation he felt.

Watching her slip gracefully from the bed— all smooth curves and perfect, creamy skin— he tried to convince himself that it was probably a good thing they'd been interrupted, giving them both some time to figure things out before getting in even deeper than they already were.

Still, as that amazing body disappeared under a light robe, moving further and further out of his reach, he couldn't help but feel a small flash of regret, accompanied by a stronger sense of dislike for their faceless visitor.

Just as he had that thought, there was a third knock, and immediately Julia's eyes found his, shooting him a brief, rueful look before she reluctantly turned, disappearing through the doorway to head for the stairs.

For a moment he just stared after her— carefully avoiding thinking too much about what this all meant, and where they stood now— before he finally forced himself to move, climbing from the bed to dig around in his pack for some clothes.

He should get going, go out and and see if Linda needed help, find something useful to do with his time.

After all, no matter who it was at the door, he got the feeling that he and Julia probably wouldn't be alone again for a while.

Which, when he thought about it, was probably a good thing.

Julia and the newcomer were still at the door when he came downstairs, an unfamiliar female voice drifting in through the open doorway. For a moment he paused at the base of the stairs— distracted briefly by the sight of Julia's bare legs under the robe, far too aware of the fact that she wore absolutely nothing underneath it— then forcibly made himself continue on, joining them at the doorway.

"Oh, hi," the other woman said quickly, clearly startled to see that Julia had company.

Glancing at her— his lingering trace of resentment swiftly disappearing as he saw her obviously pregnant stomach— Barbie gave a tiny nod. "Morning."

As cool and collected as ever, Julia caught his eye— he wondered if he saw just a trace of amusement hidden there— her voice casual as she introduced them.

"Barbie, this is my neighbor, Harriet."

Then, as if to prevent any further discussion, she directed her next comment at Harriet with a small smile, her words answering the question of the other woman's presence. "I think I have that yogurt."

Still seeming a little off-balance— finding a strange guy in the house of a technically married woman would do that to you, he supposed— Harriet nodded, and he quickly shifted out of the way to let her pass, his eyes meeting Julia's once the she had gone. Leaning lightly against the doorway, she met his gaze openly, as if trying to gauge what he was thinking.

Honestly, as of this moment, most of his thoughts seemed to involve pressing her against the doorframe and kissing her slowly— but he forced those away, electing instead to give her a small nod before heading for the porch steps.

He'd barely taken more than a step or so when she spoke up behind him, making him pause, turning back to face her.

"Where are you going?" she asked, one eyebrow arching in mild challenge. "Running away?"

Her tone was light, almost teasing, but somehow he heard the frankess of the question, the faint echo of vulnerability hiding behind her words.

Meeting her eyes squarely, he shot her a gentle 'come on' look, trying to show her that the possibility hadn't even occurred to him— which, surprisingly enough, it hadn't. Then, still holding her gaze, he spoke in a low voice, explaining as honestly as he could.

"Half the town going nuts yesterday, that wasn't a fluke— so, Linda could still use my help."

It definitely wasn't the whole story, but right now, it was all he would give.

Her only response was a small, tight nod, but he could see that— in some small way, at least— she did understand. Giving her a brief almost-smile, he turned and continued down the porch steps, forcing himself not to glance back.

Being apart for a while was the smartest thing they could do right now, giving them both some time to figure things out, to realize just how bad an idea the whole thing was.

Still, even as he walked away, he knew that he'd be back here— back to her— soon enough.

He couldn't stay away for long.

###

His hunch about the fuel had paid off.

Moving at a half-crouch through the deserted streets, Barbie tracked the two Dundee brothers, steadily gaining on their trail, lessening the lead they'd gotten on him when they'd taken off near the gas station.

It wasn't particularly hard to keep up; they were stupid, and loud, and— unlike him— completely untrained in stealth and urban warfare. He knew that, simply by keeping a small distance behind them, he could track them all the way to where they'd been hiding out, waiting until they reached cover and let their guard down— and then all he'd have to do was radio in the position to Linda and the others and get them to storm the place, catching the brothers unprepared.

It was a solid plan, simple, requiring very little involvement on his part, which was pretty much fine by him. As long as the end result included Linda hauling the brothers into a cell, he was happy to sit back and let the real cops take care of it.

That was, until he did a side-check around a corner and saw them gasjacking a car at gunpoint.

_Julia's_ car.

And just like that, the plan changed.

The shift from surveillance to combat mode happened instinctively, without conscious thought— suddenly he was a soldier again, falling immediately back into battlefield mentality.

Neutralize the threat. Protect your squad.

Protect _her._

Moving silently, Barbie covered the distance between them quickly, his eyes fixed on the two brothers' backs, his gun up and ready.

He had the clear advantage; posture alone told him that the younger was going to be a runner, and the leader of the two— while armed— was distracted and untrained. Barbie was on him within seconds, his disarm fast and automatic, the kid's nose breaking instantly under the force of the blow from his elbow, a pained groan escaping the young guy's lips as his body landed heavily against the dirt.

With both guns now in his possession, Barbie turned his back on the scrambling teenager, his eyes immediately seeking Julia. Seeing her climb hurriedly from the car— intact and unharmed— he released a sharp breath, then shifted his focus, reaching for his radio.

Reporting quickly to Linda, he sought out the fleeing fugitive, sighting up and loosing a single round that punctured straight through the kid's right calf— a deliberate, non-lethal shot, one that would slow the brothers enough that they wouldn't be able to evade Linda and Junior for long.

Then, putting the Dundees out of his mind— they were Linda's problem now— Barbie shoved his radio back into his belt, turning back to the car just as Julia looked back at him, her eyes anxious, her voice urgent.

"She's going into labor. We've got to get her to the clinic."

"That's not gonna happen," he answered grimly, his eyes on Harriet's flushed and frightened face. "I just went by there. It's closed."

Glancing back to Julia for ideas— somehow unsurprised to realize that he considered her to be the leader— he saw her bite her lip, clearly thinking fast.

"Alice," she said suddenly, her eyes finding his as she quickly explained, "She's a doctor. She's staying with Joe McCallister, only— well, this car's not going anywhere now."

"Then let's start walking," he said, already moving forward to help Harriet out of the back seat. Hooking her arm around his shoulder, he turned them to the north-east, already making calculations. Even at their slowed pace, they could probably make it to the house within fifteen to twenty minutes— that was, provided they didn't meet with any trouble.

Well. Definitely not the best odds he'd ever faced, but not the worst, either.

Just as he had that thought, Harriet let out yet another sharp cry of pain, and he glanced down at her, carefully controlling his apprehension.

If they didn't make it to Alice in time…

Seemingly having the same thought, Julia caught his eye from her position on Harriet's other side, her blue eyes worried.

"Should I try and run ahead?" she asked, the uncertainty and concern clear in her tone, "Maybe bring Alice back—"

"No," he answered sharply, then took a breath, continuing more steadily, "We're safest together. I need you as another lookout."

It was true; half-carrying Harriet as he was, he couldn't watch their backs, couldn't scan ahead for threats. Without Julia's eyes, they were vulnerable, exposed, the very definition of an easy target. They needed her.

Mostly, though, there was just no way in hell would he let her walk these streets alone.

"Okay," she agreed after a moment, something in her tone telling him that she'd caught the tiny flare of panic behind his words, that she knew there was more that he had left unsaid. Pausing to steady Harriet through another contraction— she could barely stay upright when they hit— he waited until they were moving again before reaching for the gun he'd taken from the elder Dundee, sliding it out of his waistband and holding it out, grip first, to Julia.

"Here," he muttered, still watching the road ahead.

There was a brief pause, and when she spoke, he could hear the mixture of understanding and hesitation to her words. "Barbie—"

"It's just in case," he assured her quietly, his eyes meeting hers. "I've got mine, I'll handle any trouble that might come up. Just consider it a precaution."

Holding his gaze, she nodded silently, reaching over to accept the gun from him, her hand trembling but her grip firm, her technique good. Realizing that she knew how to handle a gun, Barbie felt a small flicker of respect and relief, the weight on his shoulders lessening just a little.

Together, he and Julia would get Harriet— and her baby— through this.

Looking ahead once more, he kept them moving, supporting the laboring woman as best he could, trusting Julia to watch their backs.

"We've got you, Harriet. Just hold on. We've got you."

###

He was still waiting for the adrenaline to wear off.

The house felt too quiet to him now, the heavy silence a sharp contrast to the noise and commotion of barely an hour before.

And in amongst that silence, somewhere above his head, Alice was dying.

Just minutes ago he'd carried her upstairs, had done his best to settle her as comfortably as he could before leaving the two of them alone, returning downstairs to do the same for Harriet and baby Alice, setting them up in the guest bedroom. He didn't like to think about how different the moods had been in the two adjacent rooms, joy and life neighboring grief and death. Instead, he'd just stared at the small, pink bundle in Harriet's arms, felt the surprising strength of five tiny fingers gripping his as he'd said goodnight.

It was only as he'd slowly descended the stairs that he'd really realized it, had understood the weird lightness in his chest, the almost wonder-like feeling he'd had when he'd looked at little Alice.

He'd taken part in ending a lot of lives, but this— this was the first that he'd helped give.

He was still absorbing that fact when he finally reached the bottom of the stairs, finding Julia on the couch in the living room, her head in her hands. Immediately, he took a reflexive step forward, but then paused, torn; he wanted to reach out, to comfort her, but he wasn't sure whether she would want him to, or whether he even had the right.

After a brief moment of painful indecision, he made his choice, moving through to the dining room and starting to clean up, giving her the option of a little space as he set the chairs and cushions back in their proper places.

Carrying one of the cushions back to the couch, he saw that she'd lifted her had, watching him with solemn eyes. Wishing there was something he could say to ease the sadness in her eyes, Barbie dropped his gaze, moving wordlessly past her before leaning down to fit the cushion back into place.

"That was pretty amazing, what you did," she said quietly, and he looked up, his eyes silently meeting hers.

What _Alice_ had done had been amazing. What Harriet had done had been even more so. Even Julia herself had been incredible, staying by Harriet's side every second of the way, soothing and encouraging her, keeping her focused and strong. He knew with certainty that Harriet couldn't have gotten through the birth without her.

And hell, if it hadn't been for Julia, _he_ wouldn't have even been there at all. Had Harriet been with absolutely anyone else, he'd have gotten them safely to help, and then would have been straight back out there, back to patrol, back to things he knew.

But she _had_ been with Julia, and he had seen how great Julia was with her, how much she cared. He'd seen her sincerity, her silent determination to be there for the panicking woman no matter what— and if she was staying, so was he.

He'd meant that to be the extent of it. To be there for security and moral support, maybe fetch things for Alice, that kind of thing— but that was all.

He'd never expected to end up with a baby in his arms.

He was trying to find a way to say it— to explain how important she herself had been, the roles they had all played— when the front door banged open, the two teenagers rushing into the room.

"Where's my mom?"

For a split second there was silence as the four of them looked at each other, the movement of his hand going unnoticed as he slowly lowered it away from the gun in his waistband.

"Upstairs," Julia answered quietly, clearly working hard to keep her voice even. Still, they all heard the grim truth beneath her tone, the emotion that couldn't be hidden.

Looking terrified, the girl turned and ran up the stairs, leaving Joe lingering uncertainly in the foyer. After a moment of indecision, he shot them both a helpless look, then also turned for the stairs, slowly trailing after his friend.

As the kid's steps faded, Barbie glanced once more at Julia, seeing the bright sheen to her eyes, the tightness of her jaw as she held back the tears.

Taking a breath, he slowly sank onto the couch beside her, putting a cautious arm around her shoulders and gently drawing her against him. Her response was immediate, her body leaning into his, her breathing ragged as she buried her face in his neck. Letting out a slow, relieved breath, Barbie smoothed a hand over her hair, his lips touching lightly to the top of her head as he held her just a little tighter.

Eventually— he had no idea how long they'd stayed like that— he carefully began to pull away, drawing his arm from around her shoulders. The small, automatic protest that escaped her lips almost halted him, but he made himself shake it off, his eyes meeting hers as she lifted her head from his shoulder. Holding her gaze, he shifted over on the couch, stretching one leg out behind her and leaning back against the cushions before silently holding out a hand.

He saw the flash of gratitude in her eyes— and maybe just a hint of something more— before she came to him, scooting over on the couch and settling her back against his chest, molding into him in a way that was far easier and more comfortable than it should have been. Exhaling slowly, Barbie laced the fingers of his right hand with hers, his left coming to rest lightly atop her stomach, his breath catching slightly as she silently slipped her hand over his, her thumb brushing softly against his knuckles.

He felt her let out a long, silent sigh, felt some of the tension in her body slowly begin to ease, not even noticing as his own muscles gradually followed suit, truly relaxing for the first time in a really long time.

It was then, with her warm and soft against him, that he made a decision; for now at least, he was done with the overthinking, the doubts and questions and hesitation. There was something between him and Julia, and despite being complicated by circumstances and most likely already doomed to go down in flames, it was all either of them had right now— and they should appreciate it while they could.

So, when her head shifted against his shoulder, turning to lift her eyes to his, he simply did what felt right, leaning down to press his lips to her forehead, letting them linger for a long moment before resting his cheek against her hair and closing his eyes.

Whatever this was— whatever they were— they could talk about it later.

For now, he just wanted to lie here and forget everything else but her.

* * *

_Alright, this one was particularly difficult, for obvious Barbie-POV-related reasons— so if you have any thoughts, please share them, because it's only the encouragement and support that you guys provide that makes it worth investing so much time and effort into this story._

_In any case, thanks for reading. _


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